


The Lauchlan Effect

by yodelingintothevoid



Category: Zombies Run!
Genre: Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Enemies to Lovers, F/M, I wasn't gonna ship this, Slap Slap Kiss, golly i tried so hard not to ship them, spoilers up to the end of season 2, yet here i am setting this dumpster ablaze
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-05
Updated: 2016-11-05
Packaged: 2018-08-29 03:45:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,369
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8474158
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yodelingintothevoid/pseuds/yodelingintothevoid
Summary: Somehow it was Simon who had lately made everything survivable. Seeing him stand unprovoked made her suddenly aware of the fact that he had become a part of her strength, and that holding him in opposition had given her the energy to keep standing herself and that realization hurt her more than anything else.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Somehow this became the most epic love story in the game? Spoilers from Seasons 1 and 2. You know the ones I'm talking about.

Simon Lauchlan trudged wearily up the hill from Abel’s newly reconstructed gates, still scrubbing his wet curls with a stained towel. Even this early in the morning, sounds of the reconstruction echoed from various distant corners of Abel. Van Ark’s attack had been fast but brutal, and piles of blackened metal from the damaged wall still rose in twisted fingers towards the clear sky. Simon shivered. He had appreciated the heat of his quarantine shower and was looking forward to a bit of oatmeal from the canteen and maybe a quick lie down in his tent.

As he walked past the comms shack, he heard Janine De Luca’s voice call from around the propped door. “Whoever’s out there, please come in for a moment.”

Simon sighed, not unhappily, and pushed the door open with his toe, poking his head into the small room. Janine sat hunched over Sam’s desk. Her whole form hung heavily to one side, her forehead was cradled in her hand and her eyes were puffy from lack of sleep.

“Reporting for duty, ma’am,” Simon said quietly, slipping inside and closing the door completely behind him.

“Oh, it’s you,” she greeted him flatly.

“Always good to get a warm welcome on a frosty morning!” he replied, moving to stand over her. “Are you sure I don’t get a kiss?”

She pushed a piece of paper across the table to him. “Here, what do you think of the wording of this?” she asked, raking her hair wearily back from her forehead. “It’s a message to New Canton. Just information really, but tact in all our relations with them is so necessary right now. I’ve been pouring over it for the better part of an hour, but I’d appreciate a second set of eyes before I send it off.”

Simon took the paper and glanced around the room. “Where’s Sam? He was here for my run.”

Janine shook her head. “I chased him off to go and get some sleep. He’s had hardly any since that whole affair with Nadia…” she broke off with a sigh.

He looked down at her seriously. “You don’t look exactly fresh yourself, ma’am, if you don’t mind my saying. A couple hours sleep could do wonders for your concentration.”

“The last time I got comfortable, Abel was attacked,” she replied shortly. “It… it makes sleeping difficult. What do you think of the message?”

He ran his eyes over it, chewing thoughtfully on his cheek.

Janine watched him reading, feeling no hint of discomfort despite the fact that his large form took up most of the space in the room. Simon was not particularly tall, but even post-apocalypse he had managed to maintain a physique that belied the recent lean rations. He had a way of always appearing like he’d just stepped out of a firemen calendar, even post-mission. This morning he was bare-foot in sweatpants and a ribbed tank top, a dirty towel slung over one shoulder. His face was still flushed and his breathing deep from his run and his damp curls filled the whole room with the warm, clean scent of shampoo.

Simon glanced up at her and smiled, shaking the paper. “Sort of a thin excuse to get us alone together, don’t you think?” he asked. “You know you’ve only to ask.”

“What do you think of it?” she asked.

Simon put the paper back down in front of her and leaned on the desk, moving his body almost imperceptibly closer to her. “Well I’m not exactly Abel’s resident expert on diplomacy, but I’ve had my fair share of complicated relationships and I think it looks fine. Sam might prefer a stronger wording, but the fact is that Nadia is their responsibility, not ours. She must be disciplined as they see fit and there’s not much we can do about that without stepping out of line ourselves.”

She must have looked surprised at his response because he grinned suddenly and tapped his curls. “I bring a lot more to the table than just my chiseled jawline, you know.”

She smiled in spite of herself as she folded up the paper carefully. “Yes, I do know, and I do appreciate it, Mr. Lauchlan. You may go.”

“Are you sure there’s not anything else you want from me, De Luca? While we’re alone and half-dressed and the township’s still asleep? I’m sure I can think of something to help you sleep a little harder tonight.”

Janine’s weariness seemed to cave in on her suddenly and she snapped. “I’m sure you find your little jokes adorable, Mr. Lachlan, but in case you haven’t noticed, Abel was bombed. Someone is trying to pit our township against New Canton and they almost succeeded and did succeed in killing many more civilians than we could afford to lose! And just when tensions were starting to recover, their radio operator tried to murder our runner and now we’re staving off a war for the second time in a matter of weeks while desperately trying to rebuild and reinforce our walls from the zombie hordes that are - oh yes - still coming for us from all sides! So while I’m sure you find yourself charming and hilarious with your little flirtations, there are many of us who are trying right now to put the needs of Abel ahead of the needs of ourselves and I think we’d all appreciate it if you’d join us in that endeavor!”

She had jumped up from her chair and stood facing him, her skinny frame pulled up to its greatest height and her finger poking at his chest. She had not meant to close the last remaining gap between them quite so quickly so she took a quick step back now, panting in anger and, for the first time in years, actually struggling not to cry.

Simon looked at her calmly, in neither anger nor pity, just watched her with steady eyes and somehow his refusal to rise to her challenge had made everything slightly worse. It was a truth she was only just beginning to realize, but somehow it was Simon who had lately made everything survivable. His constant baiting and teasing, combined with his unflagging sense of humor had made him a sort of light in the darkness. Something about his sarcasm and sexually charged banter had kept her on her toes and had been a willing distraction from the darkness that had so prevailed over these last few weeks. Seeing him stand unprovoked made her suddenly aware of the fact that he had become a part of her strength, and that holding him in opposition had given her the energy to keep standing herself and that realization hurt her more than anything else.

None of this must be allowed to show on her face. She had already been staring at him desperately for several seconds too long, so she sat down briskly and cleared her throat. “Forgive me. I’m tired. You may go take your rest.”

He didn’t move, and she sat staring down at the desk, feeling nausea and grief churning in her stomach.

Simon reached out slowly and placed a hand on her shoulder, keeping the movement within her field of vision so as not to startle her. He reached behind himself with the other hand and drew up Sam’s chair, seating himself in it backwards and leaning down so he could look up into her face.

“It’s okay,” he said, very low and serious, “to cry in front of me. You’ve got to be weak in front of somebody, and I know – I know you don’t care much about my opinion.”

She huffed, still averting her eyes and fighting for her breath.

He continued. “I wasn’t making jokes. I mean, yes, of course I was making jokes, but the flirtations weren’t meant to be jokes. You knew that, right? I wasn’t making fun of you. Because I really think – I honestly believe that what is best for Abel right now might be to have a leader who is able to sleep. And who is maybe less – sexually frustrated than you’ve been for – for as long as I’ve known you. And I’m actually a huge fan of this theory because it’s something I could do for Abel that would also be very much something I’d do for me. I’m afraid this is about as selfless as I get.”

Janine sat very still, resenting his touch but unwilling to remove his hand from her shoulder. There was definitely burning in her eyes now and she tried to remember how long it had been since she’d slept more than an hour. This surge of anger was surely it was a sign that something in her body was breaking down. But there was no way out. Even when forced by Maxine into bed rest she had been unable to close her eyes without witnessing again the sights and sounds of a dying Abel.

She took a shuddering breath, suddenly relieved for the solid weight of his hand. “Is this your version of the ‘if we were the only two people left on Earth’ line?” she asked.

Simon puffed out a laugh. “You made a joke! …of sorts. I should probably call Dr. Myers.”

She blinked hard and looked him in the eye. Her voice was scratchy as she whispered, “Is there any other way to make yourself sleep? Any way I haven’t tried?”

He sighed, ducking his head, and she knew he had absorbed her rejection of his offer. He looked up and quietly removed his hand from her shoulder, half-smiling. “Honestly? The best way I know is to cry. Your brain sort of shuts down after a good cry. Or a panic attack, but I don’t recommend courting those. Do you know any way to make yourself cry? You were close, a minute ago.”

She pinched her lips together. “I was angry. And I apologize. Sometimes I feel helpless here. More often of late than usual. And I took it out on you. And I’m sorry.”

He sat back, hanging the towel around his neck like a boxer. “Well since you’ve made it to the third apology, I suppose it’s time for me to accept it.”

She swayed wearily again, looking at him, strongly feeling the lack of the steadying weight of his hand.

He shook his head at her, marveling. “What makes you cry?”

“Nothing. Not for years anyway.”

He leaned forward in his chair again. “I don’t believe you.”

She cleared her throat, glancing at the window. “Well then. I don’t like to speak of it.”

They sat that way for several minutes. He stayed still, tracing the lines of her profile with his eyes. What was she thinking? Her eyes were towards the graveyard, all those little piles of loose dirt over fresh graves. It wasn’t her fault. If it hadn’t been for her, who knows how many other bodies would be out there now? Maybe his.

She ran her hand over her neck and stared out the window. It was strange being here with him. Not the flashy bantering performance in front of others, just sitting. Breathing together. Alive. One by one, her thoughts flickered out to white noise. Peace. Or something very similar. She felt her lids growing heavy and then suddenly, in the silence of her mind and the absence of thought, the bottom dropped out under her grief. Her neck dropped under the weight of it and she wept, bent and wrenched in the little chair.

“Oh shit,” Simon muttered and reached out a hesitating hand to touch her knee, and then her shoulder again, and then he was holding her and it was cramped and sweaty and her tears were on his neck and shoulder and his arms were full of her chair and her hair was in his mouth. She was all heat and lean muscle and she smelled like sweat and cinnamon and her nails curled desperately into his shoulders and bit into the skin. His arm was going numb but he was not resenting any of iit nearly as much as he should have been because Janine De Luca was crying and he, he alone, was witness to it. Of course she didn’t care for his opinion, or his help and it was probably just the timing and the situation but either way, it was Simon Lauchlan who was witnessing this miracle and it wasn’t exactly the way he was used to his seductions going, but it was by far the most response he’d ever gotten out of her.

It only took a few moments for Janine to pull herself together, quickly stuffing her hands in her eyes and slicking away the tears with a smooth professionalism. She bit her lips and looked down, extricating herself expertly from his arms with more haste than he found strictly flattering.

“There,” she said, somewhat wetly. “That’s done then.”

He laughed quietly, shaking his head at her in wonder. “You are…” he let it tail off.

“I’m what, Mr. Lauchlan?” she asked crisply, wiping her nose.

“You’re something,” he said with feeling. “That’s for sure. Now, am I going to pick you up and carry you to the futon to sleep or will you go of your own free will?”

She nodded and looked at him with a sudden impish expression. “If you must.”

“Hmm?” he asked in horror. It had been months of his near constant implications and suggestions to her and this was the very first positive response he had ever elicited. “Really?”

“Well, fine, I’ll go myself,” she replied, but he jumped up quickly.

“I got you,” he said, scooping her up easily. He stood in the middle of the room for a minute, looking down at her tucked into a tiny weary ball in his arms. “You’re not going to make any of this easy on me, are you?”

“You can put me down now,” she replied.

He took the half step over to the small brown futon and placed her down carefully, running a blanket down her body. Her eyes were already closed.

He sat by her for as long as he felt comfortable with, and when he was sure she was asleep, he stood to open the little door. “Sleep well,” he murmured.

Her eyes opened, clear and dilated. “Thank you, Simon.” Then she craned her neck back into the arm of the futon and relaxed.

“First name. Alright. I guess I’ll take what I can get then,” he stage-whispered to her with a grin, and then ducked out the door to head up to the farmhouse.

-

The second time she used his name it was startled out of her.

“Simon!” she hissed into the darkness of the hospital tent when he came looming up at her bedside.

“Ma’am,” he responded, coolly dragging a chair up to her bedside.

“What are you doing here?” she demanded.

“I apologize for my tardiness. I only heard you were injured when I asked for you at curfew, or I would have come earlier. How are you feeling?”

She huffed in impatience. “I am not ‘injured. I just twisted my ankle, that’s all. It was a stupid mistake.”

“Well, I resent it,” he replied cheerfully. “That’s why we runners go out in the field you know - it’s not all about the majestic heroism. It’s to make sure our loved ones at home get to stay safe. That only works, however, when our loved ones don’t try major weight-lifting combined with sleep deprivation…”

“I was… never mind. I’m fine. I’ll be perfectly alright by tomorrow, but you won’t be if Dr. Myers catches you in here.”

He grinned at her boyishly. “Ah, no one will catch us, love. I’m pretty good at sneaking in and out of bedrooms. She’s passed out by now, and it’s your lucky night. No one else is overnighting it here this evening. That’s why I assumed you’d appreciate the company!” He grabbed her hand from the covers and kissed it gallantly, then dropped it himself before she could pull it away. He sprang up and grabbed the cot next to her, pulling it to her side and then striding across the room to select from a pile of clean sheets and pillows.

“What in the world are you doing, Mr. Lauchlan?” Janine enquired in frigid tones. “It’s after curfew and you must return to your quarters at once!”

“Oh, is it not obvious? I thought it was… I’m sleeping next to you tonight. Not sleeping with you, per se, though you’re allowed to spin the story however you want in the morning – “

“Stop.” Her hand went up between them like a wall. “Stop instantly.”

Simon went still, clutching a pillow next to his half-made up cot.

“As I am not remotely capable of understanding the – intricacies of your style of thought,” Janine stated frigidly, “I’m asking you now to explain yourself as clearly as possible.”

Simon sat down on the edge of his cot and bit his lip, cutting his eyes up at her in a way he had always found very successful. Janine, however, met his sultry gaze with a frosty glare. “Alright,” Simon sighed begrudgingly. “I understand if some of this may seem abrupt. You see, I still haven’t given up on my plan of saving Abel by seducing you. I think I may have just been going about it in the wrong way. Shockingly - and I say that because I was truly shocked - just making sexual comments is not enough to get some people into bed.” He stood up and continued tucking the sheets into the cot. “So I’ve talked to several people in the Township about you. I flatter myself that none of them actually know you better than I do, of course. But some of them have more experience winning over more – well – firm and principled people like yourself. If I’m being completely transparent here, women like you haven’t always been my type.”

“You’re not winning yourself any points here, Lauchlan,” Janine interjected, but there was a startled look in her eye that kept him talking.

“Well anyway, I talked to Maxie and Sam, of course. I’ve brought it up a bit with Four and Eight even, unsurprisingly Jody was a lot more help. I’ve even bounced a few ideas off of Five.”

“Ideas about what?”

“Seducing you, of course. Haven’t I made that clear?” Simon strode across the room in search of a second pillow. “Of course I wasn’t super specific as to my object in asking these questions, but I gathered some helpful tips from their advice. Basically, the first rule of seduction: find out what they love and make yourself into that thing.”

This time, he could swear he heard a hint of laughter in her tone. “And what do you think I love, Mr. Lauchlan?”

“Loyalty,” he replied immediately, reseating himself on the cot. “It’s like a whole thing for you. It’s why you put up with Sam, respect him even, though you’d never admit it. It’s why Sara’s your favorite runner. You like loyalty in every form and you can’t seem to help but reward it. So tonight, I thought to myself, what’s more loyal than curling up at your side like a faithful little puppy dog?” He shrugged out of his shirt, noting the way her eyes jumped in the effort to stay on his face. “This is just phase one of my plan. I have plans for every contingency and I’m so confident of this that I can be perfectly transparent with you and you’ll still find yourself seduced in the end. I’ve made up a whole list of ways to make you fall for me and before you ask, no, there’s no way to find out what they are until you experience them live and in person. Can I hold your hand while we sleep? It would add to the romance of the thing and Sam suggested that asking for permission before touching you might be something you find appealing as well. I’m learning.”

Janine stared into the middle distance with an expression she usually reserved for Mr. Yao’s shenanigans. “You know, I honestly thought this whole douchebag thing was mostly just an act for you. A way to keep up your confidence after the world fell. But I’m really starting to doubt that theory.”

He winked at her roguishly and climbed under his blankets. “Most people do start to realize that with me eventually. I seem so shallow on the surface that people get suckered into thinking there’s something deeper underneath. But no, I live to surprise. I know you don’t like surprises much. But you do like a challenge, and I believe I’m starting to challenge you. Good night!”

They lay still in the dark for several minutes, while he waited for her to formulate a last word.

Finally she spoke into the stillness. “When Dr. Myers attempts to chemically castrate you in the morning, I hope you know I shall do nothing to stop her.”

He grinned. “I’d expect nothing less. Good night, Janie.”

“Do NOT call me Janie,” her words lanced the darkness. “Never call me that.”

He lay still, startled, heavy breathing in the darkness. “Alright,” he returned quietly. “Noted. Good night, Jenny.”

After a long pause, she replied. “Good night, Lauchlan.”

When Maxine woke her the next morning, every trace of Runner Three had already disappeared from the hospital.

-

Simon slapped open the door of Janine’s bedroom with a force that rang through the whole farmhouse. “I’m going mad!” he announced, before he was halfway in.

“Oh, you’ve been there a while,” Janine countered, hardly glancing up from her desk.

“You’re sending Five and Four out on a four-day mission alone?” he demanded, coming to a red-faced halt before her desk.

De Luca looked up with dignity. “I trust my runners to be able to handle themselves long distance.”

“Oh, so you’re going mad too? Four and Five? Just two runners, two runners heading out alone into this horde, in the actual direction of the horde! What could possibly be so important?”

“I think I’m tired of defining the word ‘classified’ for you, Lauchlan,” she replied crisply. “You’ll have to find a dictionary on your own time today.”

“I am perfectly ready, and perfectly capable of traveling with them! You know the risks of sending two out alone! One stands guard…”

“…while the other two sleep, yes thank you Runner Three, kindly remember not to recite my own lessons back at me.”

“Well I’m not one who’s forgotten them!” Simon’s voice had risen to a roar.

Janine’s eyes moved over his shoulder to where a group of frightened teenagers stood outside in the hallway, seemingly petrified at the outburst from her room. Simon’s eyes followed hers and he went still, leaning heavily on the desk. She stood primly and walked to close the door behind him. Squaring her shoulders, she faced him from the same side of the desk.

“We have protocol for a reason,” she continued quietly. “The amount of days allotted for a runner’s recovery after an injury is a precaution for both runner and township, and prescribed by the doctor…”

“Then how come Five consistently breaks these rules?”

Janine nodded. “In times of emergency, yes, occasionally rules must be bent with the doctor’s blessing.”

“This is an emergency!” Simon hissed. “You’re sending them out there alone…!”

“You’re caring more about other people than usual, did you notice that? Or is it simply that you see yourself as some kind of savior that they couldn’t survive without?” She held up her hand sharply, cutting him off before he could formulate an answer. “No, I’m done. You’re staying and that is final.”

He seated himself abruptly in the chair in front of her desk. “Alright, I’m listening. Seeing as I’m in an obliging mood, what can I do to get you to change your mind?”

She laughed sharply. “There’s nothing in the world you could say or do to convince me to let you leave these gates in your condition!” She took a deep breath, actively pulling herself together. “Yes. Yes, I appreciate you offering your help. And if it weren’t for this injury, perhaps it would be wise. But you were hardly conscious when we brought you in that night so perhaps you don’t remember the sheer amount of blood pumping out of your body… Maxine wasn’t sure she could even save the leg. You can’t run on it and you can’t run at all until your blood count returns to normal.”

Simon went still, glaring at the ground, slowing his own breathing. “So this is really about me. Are you… are you protecting me?”

“From yourself, Lauchlan, always. Some days it seems I have no other job. You can’t help them in this state, you know that. And I can’t lose – I can’t lose another runner. Not right now.”

-

It had been… well. She didn’t like to think about how long it had been since she’d last worn a dress. Janine stood in front of the mirror in her little room, pushing her hands slowly down her thighs. The garment felt smooth, soft, and foreign under her fingers. She lifted her eyes slowly to meet her reflected ones in the mirror.

It was jarring to realize that she still looked nice. She used to do this for fun, before. Before she lost Tom. Before everyone else lost everything else. She used to put on slinky dresses and curl her eyeliner and watch men walk into telephone poles trying to stare at her ass.

It was startling to see that she could still look good, given her context. It felt broken somehow.

Not that she looked the same. The scars were the worst. So many on her arms and calves and that one prominent lump on her cheek. Her arms were thinner too, harder and more covered in veins. Some of that might be age. Most of it was diet and anxiety.

Her fingernails were gritty and hopeless and her hair hung limp at her back. She twisted it up with practiced fingers and pinned it down and – there – it looked rather all right.

She fell down onto her bed and stared out into the gathering twilight. It felt good to be clean and tidy, even for a bit. Everyone was going all out tonight, for the concert. It was Five, of course. Her strange little eccentric runner. If there was nothing more practical to pick up, Five would find something funny, something off-beat and uplifting to carry in the gates. A week ago it had been a violin and wouldn’t you know it, one of the newer refugees could play. Sam had started the concert plans almost immediately after that.

So now here it was, an excuse to dress up and gather together and listen to music, and she felt kind of strange and twisted about it. This playing make-believe, did it really make people happier? Or did it just highlight how empty things were now? She used to have racks of dresses like this, all her own. Jewelry and fine makeup. She knew the use of a slender, strappy sandal. Now she lay against the rarely-laundered quilt in a bare room, the soft green silk of her borrowed dress highlighting her battered skin.

She heard footsteps on the stairs and started up quickly, pushing back the tendrils of her hair. Everyone should be at the concert by now, herself included. But the footsteps came straight to her door and then stopped dead. She had recognized Simon’s tread long before his sturdy knock sounded on her door. What a miracle. He had learned to knock. His lessons in respect had been tumultuous and lengthy, but they occasionally paid off.

Rather than answering, she swept the door open herself, as if he had interrupted her own exit.

He stayed very still, but she actually saw his eyes dilate as he took in the dress and then quickly raised his eyes again, and he brushed past her into the room.

“What is it, Simon? I’m late.”

“I brought you something,” he kept his eyes trained obediently on hers, but grabbed for her hand, uncurling the fingers. “Here, quick, before you go.” He carefully uncoiled a slender necklace of rose-gold pearls into her palm, then he cocked his head critically, eyeing her neckline. “It doesn’t go, does it? I didn’t have much time to grab something, I wasn’t even supposed to be in that store and there were thirty zombs on my tail and Sam was screaming at me. Does it go with the dress? I didn’t know what you’d be wearing but for some reason I assumed it would be black…”

She lifted the strand thoughtfully. It really shouldn’t go. Maybe a very long, pure white strand would have worked, but if it was short enough to just brush the collarbone it wouldn’t look too terribly wrong. Without responding to his claim of having risked his life for this token, she turned to the mirror and lifted the beads to her throat.

“I got it!” he exclaimed, grabbing the thing from her hands in a way no one had yet been able to break him of. “Here let me…” he fumbled at the tiny golden clasp, his fingers calloused and hurried at the base of her neck. “Shit, how do you…?” He stood biting his lip and glowering at his feverishly fumbling fingers and she took the moment to really take him in in the mirror. He looked overwhelming in a slightly undersized tux that highlighted his physique. It wasn’t the first time she’d wondered about his longevity, the way he seemed to be glowing, even improving in health as the rest of the township struggled through a hungry winter. Maybe that was for her too? It seemed like everything in his life was lately. She heard the reports daily. She was all he talked about, all he planned about, all he focused on. What was he running from so hard that he needed this obsession to distract him? And she had never condoned it in any way. He was such a child, and such a strange sort of man, huffing through his nose as the small metal clasp repeatedly got stuck in his roughened skin.

“Here,” she offered quietly, reaching up to softly brush his hands aside and easily fix the clasp.

He didn’t protest, just watched in earnest pleasure as she eyed the gift which glowed lustrously against her sharpened collar bone, glancing at the assembled outfit.

“Is it enough?” he asked, behind her. “As I came up from the gate I noticed everyone was wearing their most expensive things – heirloom stuff I suppose. Is it nice enough for the dress? Is it nice enough for – “

He cut himself off as she turned around. “Thirty zombs you said?”

“Well, something like that. Sam said fifty but he tends to exaggerate when he wants us to move so I was rounding down based on the information I had.”

She raised an eyebrow. “That sounds expensive enough for me. Risking the life of my runner – it’s hard to put a price on that, isn’t it?”

Simon shrugged. “Well you haven’t accepted any of the other gifts I’ve brought home for you, so it seemed like it was time to raise the bar. Lately the only time you’ve paid attention to me is to yell about me doing something risky so it seemed worth it. And did you notice how honest I was about the story, I could have said fifty zombs but I remembered what we discussed about honesty so…”

She kissed him that night. Not just then. She knew, and she had known for some time that putting her lips on him would break some sort of dam inside of her and other things would have to happen too. They had a concert to attend anyway, but that was the moment she realized how very badly she wanted to kiss him and how very long she had wanted it. She wouldn’t ask herself what was motivating it, but something very old and very fragile was healing inside her to the point that she was able to recognize what she wanted and then reach out and take it. But not then. She just looked at him very hard and then walked around him and down the stairs to the concert.

She played with the pearls at her throat all night, soaking in the music and noting the way he kept watching her fingers on the necklace with an anxious sort of pride. The children went to bed and the adults stayed up a while longer with a bit of alcohol, but artificial light was expensive and the days were tiring and they wandered off to bed quickly. 

She followed him that night as he trailed behind the other runners to their bunks and she took his hand, pulling him into the darkness beside the farmhouse. He didn’t say anything as she led him around the building, just looked resigned to the expectation of another lecture, but she kissed him then, at last. The fingers of one of her hands were still on the necklace as she did so and the others were locked against his neck, pulling him hard against her. She had been right to wait. The dam collapsed before they even made it inside.

 

-  
(the end of season 2, after the deaths of the Major and Sara, Simon’s betrayal and alleged death)

Sam Yao knocked at Janine's door. The farmhouse was all asleep behind him, but despite his quiet knock, he knew he wouldn't wake her. Janine wouldn't be sleeping tonight.

Her “come in” was slightly delayed, but he found her dry-eyed at her desk, writing in something that might have been a diary. Her hair was freshly washed and bound up and she wore a soft white nightgown and reading glasses and Sam hesitated in the doorway, feeling suddenly abashed at seeing her looking so vulnerable.

“What is it, Mr. Yao?”

“Oh, um, yeah, I have the forms for tomorrow? The runner log? If I could just get you to sign it…”

Janine took the paper from him, turning up her lamp slightly as she did so. “What have you scheduled?” Her voice was soft and almost hoarse from the day of panic and shouting. Sam had seen her just that morning striding into the coms shack in her usual blue jeans and boots, her voice a whip of authority even in all of the chaos, but that had been this morning. Before everything. Before Simon. And Sara. She was softer now.

He cleared his throat. “Oh, well, the only runs I have on there now are the routine supply routes. Four and Five. I wanted to ask you – I wanted to ask if there were any unusual missions or if you thought everyone maybe – needed a break tomorrow.”

“I have no special missions in mind for tomorrow. Five however – perhaps we should take Five off of supply duty for a couple of days. I know that working through grief can be recommended, but perhaps, just now…”

“I wanted it to be Three,” Sam said abruptly.

She finally looked at him, slowly raising her head. “Hmm?”

Sam cleared his throat, kicking at the rug. “I wanted the traitor to be Simon. I love Simon – I mean, there are days I wanted to kick his pretty teeth in, but we got along, you know? I trusted him. But I just – I didn’t want it to be Five so bad that… Five’s not angry with you.”

Janine nodded crisply. “I never said that I thought…”

Sam gestured helplessly. “I wanted it to be Three so it wouldn’t be Five. You wanted the opposite, I’m guessing for probably the same reason. You’re human, Janine. That’s the best part of you, when you’re human.”

Janine smiled. “You’re human, Mr. Yao. You’re – nothing but human, really. You’re all red blood and tearstains, emotions and heart and hope. That’s why I give you so much authority here despite your age and lack of military status. I need something to balance me. Because, Mr. Yao, I am not human. And whenever I do try to dabble in humanity, people die, as they did today.”

Sam sat down heavily in the chair across from her desk and leaned his head against the back of it, looking at her searchingly with his huge, puppy eyes. He twisted his mouth thoughtfully but said nothing, and his silence and aching empathy fractured her a little.

“Did you love him?” he asked abruptly, after several minute’s silence.

“Does it matter?” she replied.

“He made you laugh. Not often, but more than anybody else did. You made him better and he made you human-er. You’re going to want to push all of that away now. You’re not a bad person for wanting it to be Five. Unless you think I’m a bad person for wanting it to be Simon.”

She looked at him kindly. “You’re all heart, Sam Yao. Don’t you find it painful?”

He smiled unhappily. “I don’t hurt any more than you do. I know you aren’t cold as a self-preservation tactic. You’re cold as a way to save everyone else. Someday I hope you’ll get rewarded for that, instead of just beaten up over and over again. He wasn’t the only one who loved you, you know. But… he did.”

Janine coughed lightly, signing the runners log and sliding it smoothly back across the desk into his hand. “Thank you, Mr. Yao. You are dismissed. Sleep well.”

He looked back at her, obviously disappointed, and then nodded. He left the room quietly, clutching the paper.

Janine sat still at her desk for a moment, then walked over to the darkened window to watch Sam’s slow trudge back to the coms shack.

Abel was silent. For the moment, Abel was safe. Janine braced her white-robed arms against the window frame, silhouetted against the lantern light like the township’s avenging angel. Again, she wept.

**Author's Note:**

> Yeah, I'm just about to finish up Season Five. When I do, I will add on to this. If things go the way I think they will.  
> Damn, I wasn't gonna ship this. How'd that go for you, Abby? Not great.  
> I didn't tag major character death bc technically... he's complicated, isn't he?


End file.
